Billy and Don's Awesome Adventure
by hiddenmoments
Summary: The inevitable 'Email vs. Snail Mail' spin-off wherein Billy and Don go off on a manhunt together, just like old times, and, just as inevitably, things go far from smoothly for anyone involved. Warnings for synchronised menstrual cycles, fake-deaths, the requisite Lord of the Flies reference and theft and subsequent bastardisation of the most beloved Bananas in Pyjamas quote ever.
1. Chapter 1

_**I own nothing mentioned in this story and probably shouldn't even be allowed playing privileges either considering my track record but I promise, no lasting damage is done in this one. Except possibly to sanity.**_

_**With that said, here is the inevitable follow-up to the suggestion made in the first part of** Email vs. Snail Mail__**. Coop and Don basically have an awesome adventure while everyone at home deals with the fallout.**_

_**Dedicated to** Damerel__** and **__notsing__**: may life be nicer because you are both awesome.  
**_

* * *

**Part I**

_i._

"They've sent Don out on FR again, did you hear?" Ana settles herself on the corner of Colby's desk. "He leaves at lunchtime. Wright was talking to Tommy and Sinclair about it this morning."

"Don already told us," Colby says absently, flicking through the folder in his hands quickly before swapping it out for another. "He got the confirmation last night when we were at dinner and Alan is not impressed at all."

"That was a stupid question, of course he told you already. Anyway, he and Cooper are the best," Ana says. "Not much choice but to send them out when this Jacobs guy keeps slipping the net. We can man the fort down here anyway, he won't need to worry."

"David's gonna be in charge," Colby says suddenly, dropping the folder as his eyes widen dramatically. "And we aren't going to have coffee."

Ana pales. They hit the ground running at the same time and, from across the bullpen, Liz briefly considers yelling a warning to Don but in the end she doesn't bother. He deserves whatever's coming to him after all.

She briefly thinks that she may be being a little uncharitable but shrugs it off. Megan's no longer there to be a voice of reason, rare as that may have been, and Springton is hot on Granger's heels so she doesn't even have the younger agent's overactive conscience to worry about.

Betancourt just looks confused so Liz turns to her and crosses her legs because she's going to need to be comfortable to tell this story.

"I think you need a recent history lesson, newbie."

_ii._

"Look, Dad, I know you aren't happy about this but it's going to be _fine_," Don says patiently as he fights the urge to let his head fall onto his desk. He has to leave in an hour and he's trying to make sure everything is in order so the team doesn't end up like the kids in Lord of the Flies while he's away. "Coop and I are both much more mature now and they've given us strict orders not to do anything stupid." He decides not to mention the fact that Wright had told him that he was to do whatever he felt was necessary to bring Jacobs in, because he's fairly sure his father would not take that well, and instead massages his temples with the fingers of his left hand.

"Oh please, Don, you think I don't know what you two used to do when you were running around the country chasing down those rabid animals?" Alan says heatedly. "The amount of phone calls your mother and I got from that handler of yours!" He affects a gruff sounding imitation of the man in question. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Eppes, but Don got in the way of a bullet again and they're digging around in his shoulder trying to find it as we speak. I wouldn't have called but we're legally obliged to let you know. Sorry to call you at four am, Mr. Eppes, but they're taking Don in for emergency surgery right now. What happened, you ask? Well, he was playing tag with a car and lost. Is that you, Mr. Eppes? I suppose you're right and I should call you Alan by now. I feel like we're practically best friends. Well, _Alan_, no, he didn't get shot this time but he did end up under a falling bookcase because he decided to forget that he carries a gun and resort to tackling an escaped murderer twice his size."

"Bart called you about the bookcase?" Don asks in disbelief. His head falls onto his desk and muffles his next words noticeably. "That rat _bastard_."

_iii._

Don spots Billy easily, the worn jeans and leather jacket comfortingly familiar, and hitches his go-bag higher on his shoulder before heading towards his former partner.

Spotting him and breaking into a jog to meet him halfway, Billy yanks him into a quick embrace before pulling back, blue eyes alight with excitement. "Thank god you're here, I've been waiting to get on the road for days!"

Don chuckles, bumping their fists together, and feels the first stirrings of excitement as the thrill of the hunt settles over him. "Let's get this show on the road then."

_iv._

**Hey Dad. Landed safe and heading off with Coop now. We have some really good leads and backup on call all the time. Maybe you should call Stan for a round of golf to help you relax?**

**_Dont be patronising Don I am still your father_**

**Duly noted. Will check in later but I really think golf might be good for you.**

_v._

Billy laughs at Don when they're parked in the shadows of a bar carpark with binoculars on the second night of the hunt and he confesses that he'd almost forgotten how much freedom they had in Fugitive Recovery.

"Hope the office politics haven't dulled your instincts."

Don snorts. "I just mean it's nice to not have to wait for warrants or SWAT to do all the fun stuff." He straightens in his seat, steadying the binoculars in his hand as he focuses on a woman exiting the bar and lighting up a cigarette. "Bingo, Coop, that is definitely Katrina Jackson right there."

Tossing his binoculars into the back seat, Billy opens his door quietly and Don does the same. The silent prowl comes back to him like second nature and less than a minute later Billy's exaggerated drawl breaks the silence as they loom out of the shadows and into arms' reach of the woman.

"Ms. Jackson?"

_vi._

By the third morning of Don's absence, Colby is sitting at his desk and staring mournfully into the break room. Tommy pulls up a chair beside the younger agent and clears his throat loudly.

Colby turns his head and looks at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"He's been gone three days, Granger. What are you going to do if he ever retires or transfers?"

"Don't even talk about that," Colby says waspishly. "Did you need something or did you just come over to make my day worse?"

Tommy shakes his head in amusement as he gets up. "Make a Starbucks run, kid. We ain't gonna last very long like this."

The younger agent sighs. "Somehow it's worse knowing that this one isn't my fault."

"Maybe they give lessons at Starbucks?"

They both turn to look at Ana with identically raised eyebrows. She scowls at them. "At least I'm coming up with ideas instead of whining about the fact that Don's out _chasing a killer_. I dunno about you but that's a bit more important to me than having drinkable coffee in the office."

She storms off towards Liz and Nikki who cast disdainful glances their way before huddling around Ana who is already making expansive hand gestures.

Colby shifts his eyes to Tommy. "They're going to synch up, McLean. We aren't even going to make it until Don gets back."

Tommy swallows thickly. "Should I call Edgerton in?"

_vii._

Day four hits and their lead from Katrina Jackson fizzles out upon investigation. Bart keeps calling with updated sightings and both of them are about ready to throw their cells out of the car windows because the public, although probably well-meaning, is obviously stupid.

Don switches his off first and pulls the SUV over. "Okay. Turn your phone off for half an hour and let's figure this out."

Billy obliges readily. "Alright, what you thinking?"

"Fact: the guy is batshit crazy. There is no logic to his plan or his path because that's the only possible reason for why he hasn't been caught yet. It's like going on the run and picking your next location by playing pin the tail on the donkey shaped map. You don't know where you're going until you're going there so how are we going to predict it?"

Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, Billy leans back in his seat and nods. "I actually see the truth in that. Where does that leave us though?"

"We've been two moves behind him this whole time because we're too busy trying to be two moves ahead. I don't think he _has_ a plan beyond the next move. He's just running."

"Which means we either need to herd him into a trap or cut him off completely. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"It really worries me but I think I am."

_viii._

"I swear to God, Coop, if you don't stop stealing my socks I am going to shoot you in the face."

"You never used to be so touchy about it!"

"That's because you usually waited until we were at least two weeks in before you went all klepto on me! It's barely day _six_!"

_ix._

They make it a week before the first of a series of disasters begin.

None of them have heard anything from Billy and Don _or_ Wright about how the hunt is going in approximately thirty nine hours when a junior agent bursts into the bullpen shouting about his girlfriend and four others being held hostage by Trent Jacobs in the 7/11 down the street and they better get SWAT down there right now.

David blinks because the last _they'd_ heard Billy and Don had been chasing Jacobs near New York and that seems like a really unlikely turn of events. He can also hear LAPD sirens and is pretty sure if it were Jacobs they would have been called in already.

Liz seems to feel the same because she goes right up to the junior agent and slaps him firmly across the face. "Get a hold of yourself," she says. "Jacobs is not in the Southwest right now and we know that for a fact."

The young man looks briefly surprised. "How do you know?"

"Do you live under a rock?" Nikki says in disbelief. "There was a whole week worth of rumours, not to mention Don's actually been _gone_ a whole week. He and Billy Cooper are out in the northeast after the guy. Wright spoke to them on Thursday and that's where they were last. That's _really_ far from LA, Joe."

The surprise turns to confusion. "Well then who's holding up the 7/11?" Joe turns suddenly pale. "What if he killed them and came back here?"

Colby lets out an irrefutably girlish yelp.

Ana leaps to his defence. "_Why would you even say that?_"

Tommy seriously considers ordering them all to separate conference rooms for time-out while he retires and moves to a tropical island where they'll never find him.

He really doesn't know how Don handles this all the time.

_x._

"It's all excitement here in Manhattan tonight, George!"

"It sure is, Alyssa, there have been increased sightings reported of escaped mass murderer Trent Jacobs and barely an hour ago the FBI issued a warning to stay indoors if at all possible tonight as he is believed to be armed and dangerous. No need to panic, however, our capable law enforcement officers are out in force for your protection until he is brought to justice!"

Billy considers pouring his coffee over the radio.

"Do you think they're secretly trying to help him slip the net and deliberately trip us up?"

Don switches it off with far more violence than is strictly necessary. Billy gives him a high five for it nonetheless.

"Guess we're back to pursuit, huh?"

_xi._

"Don't worry, lads, those idiots on the radio got ripped a new one by that feisty media liaison from the BAU in Washington. They have a couple of profilers who are going to look over the files on Jacobs again and see if they can come up with anything useable for you." Bart sounds remarkably satisfied.

Billy mutters something under his breath about numbing the area first that makes Don bark a laugh. Bart decides against asking Billy to repeat himself. He'd heard enough of what passed for wit when those two were together the first time around to last him a lifetime.

"What are your movements now?"

"He slipped us again," Don says unhappily. "So we're trying to pick up the trail. He's got two thugs with him that he's either paid really well or are especially dumb. Pretty sure their bodies are going to turn up somewhere between here and wherever it is we're going. Due southwest right now, or we think."

"Hey, Bart," Billy says loudly before he can reply to Don.

"Yes, Cooper?"

"We'll check in twenty four hours from now, okay? Have a feeling things are about to take a turn for the better."

Don looks out the windshield and spots a familiar looking 4WD. A feral grin spreads over his face and its twin is already dancing around Billy's mouth. "Later, Bart." He hangs up and tosses the phone into the glovebox.

"Time to rock'n'roll, Donnie," Billy says wickedly.

_xiii_.

"What did you say? They missed their check in? What is that even supposed to mean?" Alan's voice is getting progressively louder and less composed.

Charlie drops his head into his hands. "And here we go again." He looks at Amita through his fingers. "Can we go stay with your parents in India until Don comes home?"

_xiv._

Trent Jacobs knows that he needs to think quickly when he spots the red-headed man lounging against the almost deserted bar.

He realises that he needs to think even quicker when the dark-haired man slips inside the tavern and it becomes apparent that the friendly bartender has disappeared.

_xv_.

The bar is slowly being consumed by flames and all of the tires on their SUV are obviously slashed when Billy poses the idea of stealing a car from the parking lot.

Don thinks it says a lot for the situation that all it takes to convince him is Billy's argument about all the owners being drunk and not needing them until at least tomorrow and the fact that if it ever comes out that they were the ones who stole it the FBI will have to pick up the cost. Normally he's less easily swayed than this but he really, really doesn't like Trent Jacobs.

He doesn't even bother questioning the fact that the bartender had apparently given Billy a set of keys to a pretty slick looking car. Or the fact that he willingly hands Billy the lighter when he suggests torching the SUV and calling the press liaison to suggest reporting that they'd been in it to further throw Jacobs off kilter.

He agrees and they're a mile away when he realises that his phone had been in the SUV and he doesn't know his Dad's number.

_xvi._

Alan answers the phone almost as soon as it starts ringing. "Yes?"

"Mr. Eppes?" The voice is maddeningly familiar.

"I quite honestly hoped to never hear your voice again."

"Pleasure is all mine then. I'm just calling to let you know that you probably shouldn't-"

The news is blaring in the living room and Alan walks closer to hear as the words 'FBI agents' and 'set alight' catch his attention, completely forgetting that he has Bart on the phone.

"Mr. Eppes!" Bart can hear the news and swears to himself.

"The blaze was deliberately set and four bodies recovered from the building and vehicle, according to crime scene officials. Two have been positively identified as unnamed FBI agents in pursuit of Mr. Jacobs and the others remain anonymous at this point in time."

"I'm going to pretend that the news didn't just tell me that my son was burned alive in an SUV by a madman," Alan says dully. "Please, continue. Wait," his voice rises. "You were calling to tell me that, weren't you? Oh god."

He sinks to a chair. "I always imagined that someone in a suit would come to the door. A phone call doesn't seem personal enough for news like that."

"Oh for Christ's sake, I was trying to tell you _not_ to watch the news," Bart snaps irritably. His temper is frayed enough without attempting to deal with a needlessly distraught Alan. "We're trying to throw Jacobs off balance because he keeps getting the edge. Do you know how hard it is to try and match the moves of a lunatic who has no idea what he's doing? Practically impossible. So we need you to kindly _not_ tell anyone but immediate family that Don was not flash-fried, okay?"

Alan feels a tad light-headed. He thinks it must be relief. "Oh. Okay. I'm sure I can act suitably distraught if needed, I mean, I definitely believed that news report."

Bart takes a deep breath. "Yes, that would be great. Don will be out of contact for a little while but I promise you, he's fine and definitely wasn't in that fire. We just need the public and Jacobs to believe that he and Cooper aren't still on the hunt."

_xvii._

"Dad is pretty much glued to a source of news at all times," Charlie says, rubbing his eyes. "Sometimes there are several going at once. The power bill is going to be _so_ high. Campus is unbearable, if I have one more crying girl come up and give me a hug I am probably going to abandon the whole grieving brother façade and see how well they adjust to a proper crazy genius."

"Don't worry, the office is just as bad," David says, waving a hand for emphasis. "This is even worse than last time. Colby's moping his way through caffeine withdrawal again and half the office thinks Don's dead so we have everyone walking on eggshells and not even bringing Starbucks into the office in case it sets someone off to tears, I'm pretty sure Liz _and _Ana are menstruating and Nikki is suicidal. I know it's a big call but nothing else makes sense. No one can accidentally try and get themselves killed so frequently."

Charlie blinks. "Has anyone else made the causal connection between everyone going nuts and Don being to blame?"

* * *

_**Part I fin.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_So, _**_J__**, when I realised I wasn't even struggling to come up with chaos for this I remembered what you said about **__The Daily Grind_ **_suddenly making a lot more sense when you think about the crazy stuff that happens to me anyway. Which, if you think about it, is really worrying when you read this. Consider this peace gift because I don't know when the next bit will be done, things are kind of chaotic in RL and uni is taking over everything right now._**

* * *

**PART II**

_i._

"Coop?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you plan on stealing this car even before the bar burned down and our tyres got slashed?"

"Well, for one, we aren't technically stealing it. The bartender knows we have it and he had the keys which he gave to me. Possession is nine tenths of the law, remember? And two, alright, so maybe I thought that switching cars was a good idea. No one thinks that FBI agents are going to be stalking them in a ride this smooth."

"No judgement, man, I'm just glad you don't have a rookie with you. Do you have any idea how easily transferable your kleptomania is? I had to train myself out of stealing pens and gum and blackboard erasers when I got to New Mexico."

"You know, I think I'm getting old because the fact that is one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me is making some alarm bells ring."

"Either that or Bart just kicked a puppy and it's our fault again."

"You're right, those feelings are scarily similar."

_ii._

"So, you may want to build a statue of me and start worshipping." Ana's voice practically oozes smugness.

Colby looks up with narrowed eyes and Liz raises an eyebrow. "Why would we do that?" Nikki asks, sounding confused. David is just confused.

"Because," Ana says, chest swelling with pride, and Colby looks because he really is _just_ a man, "I just convinced the Starbucks down the road to start making deliveries to us."

Liz blinks and Nikki's mouth starts watering a little. Colby may or may not be having some trouble tearing his eyes away from Ana's chest and not actually have heard the words properly.

Tommy pops up in the preternaturally creepy way he seems to have mastered over the last couple of days and looks at her in awe. "You did what? _How_?"

"I unbuttoned my shirt before I went in and then when he started talking to me I thought about really sad things and when I started crying I told him about Don dying in a horrific fire and how none of us can even look at the coffeemaker anymore. He pretty much offered to deliver to us whenever we want. I didn't even have to promise him a date!"

David's gaze is turning awestruck too. Liz looks around before leaning in close and whispering "If Don _was_ dead, he would totally approve of this. Let your conscience stay wherever it's gone, okay?"

Ana beams and nods.

Colby shakes his head and the fog clears a little. "Wait a second, all I heard was Starbucks and crying and something about buttons. What happened?"

Tommy contemplates arranging a group visit to a psychologist because he thinks that even just pretending that Don's dead is having some unexpected side effects.

_iii._

"We don't _do_ deliveries, Michael!"

"I know we don't usually but Jesus, have a bit of a heart will you? Their boss was the one who always made their coffee in the office and he just died in a horrific fire trying to protect the public from that Trent Jacobs guy who's been all over the news. This poor woman burst into tears in the middle of the shop!"

"Fine, but they better tip you well because I'm not giving you a fuel allowance and you're not delivering in peak times."

"Where's your patriotism and sympathy, Rich? These people put their lives on the line for us every single day."

"Patriotism won't pay the bills in this economy. You also need to fix the microwave."

_iv._

"You coordinate with the tac team and I'll call Bart to fill him in," Billy says and he glances around in a casual kind of way that makes Don instantly suspicious.

"Coop, you work up this way all the time. Surely you know them better than I do and can coordinate."

"Well, this trap is more complicated than I usually deal with," Billy says defensively. A furrow appears in his forehead and Don sighs.

"Fine," Billy mutters darkly, glaring at him. "I may have accidentally slept with one of their girlfriends. She wasn't exactly forthcoming about the fact that she was attached and I only found out when I was coordinating with them and he put his gun to my pants and told me to keep it in there."

Don tips his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I honestly can't escape it, can I?"

"Don't you try and get all high and mighty on me now," Billy says, slouching against the door. "I haven't forgotten that time in Kansas and I doubt that bar full of people have either."

"I need new friends," Don says to himself as he pushes through the door and almost runs down the hallway. "New friends and a new job and a new name and maybe a new pack of gum."

_v._

Trent Jacobs is feeling pretty pleased with himself. He managed to incinerate those stupid FBI agents and has the whole country in even more of an uproar than before and they're _still_ no closer to catching him than they were before.

Just let them try and send more after him, he figures. He's already disposed of two and from what he hears they were the best the Bureau had. He laughs. Regardless of what his friend's source says, they were pitiful and the fact that they'll be baying for his blood once they're done grieving is kind of exciting.

_vi._

A case falls onto their desks two days after Don's alleged death.

Feeling remarkably secure in the ruse after a very long, very convoluted phone call with Megan who had been completely convinced that Don was actually dead _until_ receiving an unusually specific and detailed confirmation from him, David makes a big deal of taking charge and Tommy bravely offers his assistance and his team. Ana and Colby are even more attached at the hip than usual and Liz has taken to just staring down any man in the office that dares to speak to her.

"You think she wants anything to do with you?" Ana or Nikki say to the unfortunate souls after the moment has passed. "Take a number."

Sometimes Junior Joe adds his two cents because everyone can see that he's keen on Liz but he thinks he's sly. Also, he really thinks Don is dead and feels kind of bad for his 7/11 induced hysteria. This is all on top of the fact his girlfriend dumped him for not rescuing her himself.

"Have some respect, man. She's still mourning Eppes."

After one such incident, they're sitting in the war room and Nikki raises an eyebrow at her teammate. "You know, it's actually kinda cute how defensive of you he's being."

"Maybe I'll let him take me to dinner when this whole thing blows over," Liz muses, sipping at her coffee.

"I've come to realise that we're all really bad people," David says calmly. "I've also come to realise that I am strangely okay with that."

_vii._

Their trap fails miserably, mostly because a woman gets a little frisky with Billy and dislodges the blonde wig and, just before Don readies himself to call for the tac team, another woman, who makes a wide eyed expression of panic appear on Billy's face, attaches herself to his front and Don thinks that it is probably better to abort.

He knows exactly what everyone in the bar, including their prey, is thinking as he drags Billy into the bathrooms and he is going to kick Jacobs' ass _so hard_ when they finally get the bastard.

_viii_.

"What the hell is going on?" Bart barks into the phone. "This is dragging on way too long and eventually people are going to begin to think that it doesn't matter how tragically we lost you, we better get back to doing our jobs."

"You don't think we feel the same?" Billy retorts waspishly. "I have my mother texting me how much she loves me multiple times a day because even faking my death is a little much for her. My mother _does not text_."

"Well, that isn't my-"

"Yes, Bart," Don interrupts. "No, it isn't your fault because, yes, it was Billy's stupid idea, as were the wigs and the stolen car but you _are_ the one that sent us after a raging idiot with the IQ and common sense of my brother. Therefore it is your fault that stupid shit keeps happening."

"Look, you think I wanted to pair you up again?" Bart says after a moment. "Well, newsflash, the rest of the FR division might have wanted to throw a party because you two have a glowing and slightly undeserved but mostly warranted reputation as an unstoppable team but I was actually reluctant because, discounting the criminals and all, the country was actually a much safer place with you two on opposite coasts."

The thoughtful silence only lasts a minute before Billy snickers. "That's kind of a good point. Do you remember that grain silo and the chickens?"

Don can't hold back a laugh as much as he might want to. "We're definitely going to hell. Let's take Jacobs with us."

When Bart finishes with them he lets his head fall into his hands. Those two are probably going to be the death of him. He laughs though, because he remembers extracting them and their fugitive from that incident and it doesn't matter what happens, ever, there will never be something as funny as picking up three grown men, one handcuffed, covered in peck wounds, mud and chicken feathers in a helicopter.

Eppes still has the scar on his face and the thought sends him into uncontrollable chuckles all over again. That poor pilot.

_ix._

"We just think you're really brave, Professor Eppes," one girl says tearfully. "I mean, after everything you've been through in the last few days the fact that you're still here and teaching the class so well even though we can all see how much you miss your brother… it-it just means a _lot_ to us that you value our educations so much."

Charlie blinks and Amita expertly covers her snort of laughter with a theatrical sob.

The girls turn to her with expressions of anguished sympathy on their faces. Charlie raises his eyebrow and for a moment he thinks he sees a glint of mischief in her eyes but it's gone the next second as a tear rolls down her cheek.

"I-I'm sorry," she hiccups and Charlie goes rigid with alarm. "It just hits me sometimes tha-that he won't be in the back of the classroom waiting for our help on a case."

The girls' eyes widen and become even shinier with unshed tears. Charlie didn't think that was possible.

He runs and thinks to himself that Don is actually never going to be able to come back to CalSci unless he has a sex change and a lot of plastic surgery.

_x._

Luckily, the case seems to be a fairly simple one. Open and shut murder and the culprit is possibly the stupidest criminal around because they have oodles of identifying evidence and only have to actually track him down now.

Ana and Colby are remarkably grateful for this because they were in the middle of a _Friends_ marathon when they got assigned the case and neither of them particularly like leaving a disc unfinished.

_xi._

"Alright, so we know his type," Billy says, tapping his pencil absently against the steering wheel. "Tall, leggy, dark hair and a bit on the skinny side."

"Should we pull an agent from the locals?" Don shifts and pulls out a rather absurdly long straw from the narrow gap between the seat he's sitting on and the car door. "What the… that is the biggest straw I've ever seen."

Billy looks mesmerized.

Don blinks after a long moment of silent staring. "Do you think ADHD has a midlife onset mutation?"

_xii._

After they close their case, Tommy loudly asks for a moments' silence in honour of Billy and Don.

Afterwards, when the office has stopped sharing memories and several women have stopped crying, he and David share a worried look that asks them both whether they've crossed the line.

Unfortunately, for their morals anyway, the AD calls them into his office and congratulates them on such a believable act so far.

"We're confident that the leak has been fed the right information and your department is doing such a realistic job at grieving that it has spread country-wide and the chances of Jacobs' source finding out the truth are minimal."

Later, when they're sitting in a conference room while the others are out being falsely productive, Tommy turns to David. "You know, if we were actually completely convinced that the brass _aren't_ lying to us this whole thing would be a lot harder. I actually think I kind of do think they are dead."

"We haven't heard from them since before they told us about the whole idea," David says and he sounds thoroughly suspicious. "Wright has us lying to everyone else. What's to say they wouldn't lie to us and actually be telling the truth to everyone else?"

Tommy thinks that they may be thinking themselves in some kind of destructive circle but the possibility is too real to ignore. After he calls out for Ana and Colby he thinks that he probably should have chosen Liz and Nikki instead so he calls for them too.

He really should have known better.

_xiii._

"This is actually getting beyond ridiculous and crossing into absurd," Billy says to Don as they make sure the leggy brunette is rigged with a mic and emergency gun. "None of our other hunts have ever gotten this out of hand. Why haven't we just shot him yet? We _know_ he's guilty."

"There is obviously something out there pulling the strings and laughing at us," Don says. "And we haven't gotten close enough for him to shoot at us, just kind of try to set us on fire, so I think we're in a moral dilemma. Don't quote me on that though." He offers the woman a light jacket. "It's a bit chilly. Any questions?"

"No thanks, love," she says cheerfully. "Mama always said that if you got it, you oughta flaunt it. I got this but I'll see your handsome self on the dance floor, mm?"

_xv._

"First things first," David says seriously. "Not a word of this to Alan or Charlie or even Amita. Promise me that now or I'm sending you to Hale's team and you can deal with Junior Joe."

Everyone in the room hastily promises their silence. Even Tommy, who is technically David's superior but everything is all up in the air right now because David is Don's relief supervisor but neither are actually sure whether that means he's in charge of the entire division or just the team.

Tommy's actually pretty sure it means that David would be in charge of the whole division if they're right but he's a little worried of what the sudden rush of authority would do to the other man and frankly, right now they have more than enough to worry about.

His mind is drawing some unsettling parallels to Lord of the Flies and he resolves to keep a weather eye on the balance of power until they figure this mess out.

_xvi._

Bart calls Alan on the eleventh evening of the whole debacle. Alan sounds unusually pleased to hear from him.

"How are Donnie and Billy going?"

Instantly suspicious, Bart straightens in his chair and completely disregards the fact that Alan can't actually see him. "Quite well, actually. I spoke to them last night, they're planning something for tonight. I can't share details, you understand, was just calling to let you know that while things may not be going to plan they're considerably better now and thank you for your cooperation with our little ruse."

"Oh, of course," Alan says cheerfully. "I appreciate the call, it's nice to know how they're doing." He chuckles. "I bet they're having a grand old time reliving their glory days."

"Yes, well," Bart sputters and he isn't entirely sure why. "I've got to go, Mr. Eppes, lots to do. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

"You too, Bart, was lovely to hear from you!"

Bart stares at the phone with wide eyes for a good few moments after it has been hung up.

Alan Eppes has gone insane, there is no other explanation. Until he starts thinking about it, upon which several become clear. For some reason, the one his mind picks to cling to most firmly involves a benevolent race of aliens who communicate with humanity under the alias of penpals.

He is stuck by a sudden desire for a penpal. "It really would be nice to have someone to talk to who isn't insane," he says aloud.

His assistant pokes her head in his open door and rolls her eyes at him. "You do realise you've been talking to yourself about alien penpals, right?"

He doesn't dignify that with a response. He closes his door and sulks for a little while instead before deciding that he rather fancies meatballs for dinner.

_xvii_.

"What the hell was that yesterday?" Charlie asks when Amita walks through the door to his office the next morning.

Amita shrugs. "I took a couple of acting electives. I got a standing ovation for my fake crying."

Charlie thinks that he might really cry because he isn't sure how much more of this weirdness he can handle.  
_  
xviii._

Things go to hell remarkably quickly when Don considers how well the evening started.

They're in some ritzy dance place that doubles as a gentleman's club, blending in seamlessly if you ask Billy although Don's pretty sure the only one who doesn't know they aren't regulars is Jacobs, who sticks out even worse than the five goons he seems to have acquired.

Actually, he amends, throwing himself over a scantily clad woman who is screaming about the serial killer holed up behind the bar as bullets ricochet conveniently off a pole situated nearby, they do blend in well when you think about the people they're chasing. Thankfully, the bullets miss both Don and the possible stripper.

Billy is shouting and waving his gun threateningly and people are fleeing out the doors and Don has _no _idea where their backup agent in the skimpy dress has gone but they're both very aware of the goons and Jacobs, who are firing rounds rather indiscriminately around.

A second woman who may also be a stripper is crumpled on the ground, looking dazed and confused but Don's pretty sure she hasn't been shot because he saw yet another woman throw a glass bottle at her head what may have been a few minutes ago.

The stripper under him scrambles away to safety and he hauls himself to his feet and manages to avoid getting shot on his way to Billy.

"I am way too old for this," he mutters, firing a shot at a bottle of Jack Daniels simply because the fact it shares a syllable with Trent Jacobs makes him irrationally angry.

* * *

**_And not a shred of sanity was left._**


	3. Chapter 3

**_In which any façade of plausibility and sense dissipates and things are prolonged for no purpose other than amusement. The media are still stupid, Billy's mother gets even better at texting, Don's phone is still incinerated, Ana and Colby discover a conspiracy that doesn't actually exist and everything still makes no sense. Mostly because, as per usual with these guys, I have absolutely no control over what happens once they get on a roll. Much love to the illustrious _**_J**,**** who is recieving all these chapters before they're posted and does a wonderful job of convincing me that I haven't actually lost my mind.**_

* * *

**PART III**

_i._

"And the hunt for Trent Jacobs continues, Matilda! After the tragic death of two FBI agents, this train has really gathered some steam. Our source reports that they've doubled local police patrols in New York and surrounding states and are forming a taskforce consisting of the best of the best."

"Things really are ramping up, James, and we can't emphasise enough how important it is to help bring this man to justice. We urge you to call into the tip line with any sightings or information you might have that could help this taskforce."

"I wish they'd stop with this tragic death bullshit," Billy says, voice sharp with irritation. "Ma's texting skills are improving and that is not a good thing."

"You think you've got it bad," Don mutters. "When this is over I have to go back to an office where everyone thinks I'm dead and the ones that don't are both pretending they think I am _and_ absolutely insane. Is it bad that I kind of wish we actually were in that fire?"

"I have no idea," Billy says after a moment. "I'm just really confused about why this collar keeps slipping us. Normally we would have had him in the first three days but everything just keeps going wrong."

"I know, right? It feels like someone is just messing with us for their own amusement," Don agrees. "Do you think we're ever going to get Jacobs? I mean, at this point it feels like he's going to end up making it to Mexico and we're probably going to end up getting eaten by coyotes or mountain lions or some kind of other vicious animal that isn't even supposed to live in the States."

Billy's phone vibrates loudly and after a moment he shoves it at Don with a blank expression.

_Good morning son just wanted you to know that your father and I love you and hope you are being careful. Love, your mother. PS we were told to be very careful not to use names in case this is intercepted. Your sisters also say hello._

Don suddenly feels much better about things. His phone has been incinerated, after all.

_ii._

Trent wonders just how long it's going to take the government to send the real big guns after him. The prospect of a challenge is rather thrilling and he's managed to coerce a good dozen thugs for hire into helping him draw less attention.

He spends a good hour that night wondering where they should go next and, after some deliberation involving a Sharpie and blindly dropping it point first onto a map, decides that Denver is as good a place as any.

The first dozen times it had landed off to the side, in the ocean, or missed the table entirely. Then there had been a couple of places that he didn't really like, but he thinks he might like Denver according to the city's Wikipedia page.

His thugs are going to think he's a genius.

_iii._

Ana and Colby are having a very serious discussion in the war room.

"Look, I know that it's probably some kind of treason to think that the brass are lying to us," Ana says quietly. "But the facts are the facts. We haven't heard from them since a couple days before that fire, it's _very_ convenient that Don's phone was incinerated seeing as none of us are friends with Cooper and really, should it have taken this long for them to catch one stupid fugitive? They're the best at this stuff."

"They're all really good points," Colby admits and he frowns. "But why wouldn't they have just told us they were dead like they told everyone else?"

"Because," she looks around quickly but everyone is doing a very good job at pretending to not be watching them so she turns back to him and continues, "we know Don well enough to know that there's no way he'd be stupid enough to fall for anything this guy tries to pull on them and there has to be more to the story. Something they don't want anyone else to know so they have to keep us occupied until they figure out how to cover it up."

"It does seem a really stupid way - wait a minute!" Colby straightens suddenly. "They never even told us what exactly happened to them!" He pales. "I think you're right. What do we do if they really are dead? That means there's a massive conspiracy going on and we're the only ones who know."

"We have to get to the bottom of it," Ana says staunchly. "For Don. He'd do the same for us if we died so suspiciously."

"He would," Colby says and he takes a deep breath. "Okay. We have to talk to the others and tell them that we don't think they're crazy anymore. We're also going to have to figure out a way to communicate that they can't trace. No emails, no phone calls, no text messages. They have eyes everywhere and if they really did get rid of Don and Cooper then we could be next if they think we're onto them."

"Do we tell Alan and Charlie?" Ana asks, a sombre expression settling on her face. "I know Sinclair and Tommy said to keep them in the dark until we figure it out but I feel horrible letting them go on thinking that he's alive when that's seeming less and less likely."

"No, we aren't going to tell them." Colby waves, very slyly, to David and Tommy and crooks his finger to beckon them into the room. "We'll leave them in the dark as long as possible. That way if we're wrong, no one needs to know, and if we're right, well, at least we'll have someone we can leave a letter to so that they know there's corruption afoot. Charlie can do some freaky math thing to prove it and then at least none of us will have died in vain."

_iv._

Charlie is seriously wondering what on earth is wrong with college students, especially the ones in his classes. He's beginning to wish that none of them were quite so clever because if that had happened then Alicia Worthington wouldn't have remembered overhearing his discussion with Larry about the pursuit-evasion formula he'd tried to explain to Don before he left to start chasing Trent Jacobs when she saw the broadcast that had almost given his father a heart attack.

It had taken almost _every_ persuasive skill in his arsenal to convince his students not to go running to the media with all the wild tales that not even he is sure are actually real because the media hasn't been informed of the agents' real identities.

When he thought of the best way to do so, he discovered that their enthusiasm for keeping a secret when told that it is important to national security was startling and rather alarming. He'd only had to hand out three doctored grades to ensure complete silence when not in his classroom. Which naturally means that they save up all the sobbing and hysterics and reminiscing for during classes.

When Larry asks him how things are going at home he holds up a hand. "Do not even get me started on the many ways my father has lost his mind."

_v_.

"How about we blow up _his_ car when they stop for fuel?" Don suggests.

Billy scowls. "Bart told me I lost my munitions privileges."

After a moment of silence, their eyes meet and a slow grin spreads over both their faces as they realise the same thing simultaneously.

"He didn't take _my _munitions privileges."

Don doesn't think he's ever been less bothered by the fact that their creepy mindlink never seems to go away.

_vi._

If Tommy were thinking rationally at all he might wonder how it was that Ana and Colby managed to convince him, rather easily, that there was a conspiracy going on wherein their superiors had either messed up really badly and accidentally killed two of their best agents _or_ deliberately disposed of them and were now in the process of initiating a coverup.

Incidentally, there was nothing rational about his thinking so he didn't wonder or even question it because the validation of the worries that he and David had first aired was very reassuring. It shouldn't have been, considering the fact that it was being validated by Ana and Colby, which David points out.

"Beggars can't be choosers, kiddo," he says heavily. "And right now we are definitely beggars."

"They were good agents," David says and he looks weary. "A little unorthodox and maybe they didn't always follow orders but both of them were loyal to a fault. They loved this country and they loved their jobs. They didn't deserve this."

"All true," Tommy agrees. "But someone wanted them silenced. Permanently. We owe it to them to figure it out and try not to get ourselves killed in the process."

With a nod, David looks out at the bullpen. Both men are filled with a sudden sense of foreboding.

"And so it begins."

_vii._

They stop in Dayton and tell Bart that Jacobs and his goon squad have hooked up with a local gang and they're conducting surveillance but really it's because Billy's contact can meet them there and they really, really really, really want to get their hands on the C4 that, if anyone asks, only Don is responsible for.

Naturally, they end up losing their quarry in the five minutes it takes to conduct the transaction. They don't tell Bart that and instead, on a hunch or maybe a little wishful thinking, decide to go west towards Terre Haute.

Billy pretends to not be surprised at all when they somehow end up back on Jacobs' tail and Don narrows his eyes a little because it seems _just _like something Jacobs would do, going through the place that he thinks they're going to send him for ostensibly killing two federal agents.

Kind of like an arrogant taunt and he has to admire the man's gall. At the same time he very much wants to punch him in the face.

_viii._

Ana, Liz and Nikki convince David to let them have a couple of days off to investigate the conspiracy. The first evening is spent doing basically anything but.

Their first stop is the liquor store where the gangly, stammering youth manning the counter cops the full brunt of their womanly charm. Liz manages to score them a hefty discount on enough alcohol that all three of them have to carry it back to the car.

They order pizza when they get back to Ana's, where they proceed to conduct a very thorough sweep for surveillance bugs. When they're positive that the apartment is unmonitored, they burst into tears simultaneously.

Liz, in her role as the eldest of the trio, is the one who pulls herself together when the door buzzes and the pizza arrives. She answers the door with tears still streaming down her face and the teenager holding their dinner is caught completely off guard.

"U-uh, hi? I… I brought your-your pizza," he stammers.

"Tha-thanks," she hiccups, handing him a fifty. "Keep the ch-change." The door shuts in his still surprised face.

"It's criminal to still look that good and be crying," he mutters after a few moments of stunned blinking at the closed door.

Inside, Liz has put the pizza on the counter and is sobbing quietly while she pours three glasses of whiskey and carries them into the living room on top of the pizza boxes.

Four hours later the pizza is gone, as is the bottle of whiskey and a good portion of the wine, and, although they've stopped sobbing, the quality of the conversation hasn't improved much.

"W-we see horrible things every day," Ana says, the wineglass in her hand tilting dangerously as she gestures expansively. "All because _they_ convinced us our job is so-so… so _noble_!"

"I've seen shit here that would make LAPD guys bawl like a bunch of babies," Nikki agrees and her voice is slightly slurred. "An' you know who always listened? _Don_!"

"He made such good coffee," Ana says mournfully, clinking their glasses together. "I can't understand why they would have wanted him dead."

"Because," Liz's voice wobbles here and she swallows half the wine left in her glass. "Because they were _threatened_ by him when he found out they were corrupt! He would have just looked at them and done that thing with his eyes where they go all smouldery and his voice goes all threatening and then their wives would have wanted to tear his clothes off and they would have told someone to kill him because he wouldn't take their bribes."

Nikki blinks and drains the rest of her glass.

"That makes _so_ much more sense than what Granger and I came up with," Ana breathes.

_ix._

"Okay, so I'm in charge of the distraction?"

"Yes, Coop, because I'm the only one with munitions privileges. You have to do the distraction."

"Oh, yeah. So I do the distraction and you rig their car and then give me the signal, we hide, the car explodes and we grab Jacobs, right?"

"Yes, that's the plan."

"Good, I think I've got it. Do you think making out with the barmaid will be enough of a distraction?"

"I don't know but I'm sure you're going to do it anyway."

_x._

Bart has a horrible feeling that things are going to go _very_ wrong.

Billy isn't answering his phone, Don doesn't have one and he's just received a really strange text message from a number that he doesn't know and just comes up as an unregistered prepaid SIM.

_We know what you're doing and you aren't going to get away with it._

He's suddenly very glad that he'd made sure to reiterate that Billy wasn't allowed near explosives of any kind on this case.

_xi._

"He's having some trouble adjusting," Amita says quietly. She'd spent all morning practicing her mournful expressions and reminding herself to thank Don for giving her such an opportunity to practice her acting skills. "They'd gotten so close over these last few years and Charlie really got to see just how good at his job Don was. I think it made him think that he didn't have to worry about this happening, that Don was kind of invincible. It makes this so much harder."

_xii._

Don sprints across the darkened carpark towards the ugly, khaki coloured 4WD and briefly, perhaps a little hysterically, hopes that the hastily rigged bomb in his arms doesn't go off early.

They'd dyed Billy's hair and eyebrows brown earlier in the day and he was in the bar, presumably making out with the barmaid. Don can hear faint whoops and catcalls but rationalises that they could just be watching a game as he ducks behind the vehicle and wriggles his way under. The timer is set for another five minutes so he attaches it to a random pipe and gets the hell out of there.

Brushing himself off, he saunters into the bar with a nod to the bouncer who is, naturally, an undercover agent that they'd called in. Billy is, unsurprisingly, making out with the barmaid.

Jacobs looks rather put out and Don realises that maybe, just maybe they didn't really think this through.

_xiii._

"And tonight on Springfield news, a local tavern has erupted in a gunfight. Sources say that it was instigated by an unidentified man who seemed to take a liking to one of the ladies working the bar who, incidentally, rather liked another fellow. Several people drew arms and there was an as of yet unexplained explosion in the parking lot where several vehicles were destroyed."

"Never a dull moment here in Springfield, Mark! Three vehicles were caught on a cell phone camera fleeing the scene and authorities ask for your assistance in identifying them or their drivers who are wanted for questioning. The pictures can be found on our website as well if viewers think they need a closer look!"

_xv._

"_Goddammit_!"

Bart throws his paperweight at the door and takes his phone off the hook, slumping in his seat.

"Alison, I need a whiskey!"

_xvi._

"Coop."

"Yeah?"

"That is the _last_ time you are ever making out with a woman as a distraction."

"Good call. Is your arm okay?"

"It'll be fine but my shirt is a write off. How's your leg?"

"Just grazed. Can I borrow some clean boxers when we stop though?"

"I am going to put my fist through Jacobs' face when we bring him in, I swear to God."

"I'm not arguing. I'll hold the icepack for you afterwards if you lend me a pair of boxers."

"Take whatever. I really don't care anymore."

* * *

**_And somehow, it only gets worse for everyone except Amita and the barmaid who got to make out with Coop._**


	4. Chapter 4

**_I've stopped trying to convince myself that this is even a proper story anymore. Even parodies have a basis in reality. This just has a whole lot of hysteria, Ian and a long-overdue blanket ban on munitions. This is quite possibly the last chapter and then there will be an epilogue. Again dedicated to _**_J__** who seems to be my personal cure for the dreaded block. All it takes is an email of the first 800 words to her and you guys get a chapter that actually has direction. Miracles, I say, miracles!**_

* * *

**PART IV**

_i._

No one is really sure how long it's been since the hunt for Trent Jacobs started. The days and nights have begun blurring into each other.

This is especially true for Ana, Liz and Nikki. They may or may not have slept in a good thirty hours and there is a truly impressive dent in the liquor supplies. Colby joins them after a particularly hysterical phone call at four in the morning and, unfortunately, doesn't do much to settle the situation.

"I bet that thing in Springfield was another one of their coverups!" Nikki says vehemently, sometime that afternoon, pointing at the television rather violently. The appliance isn't even on and none of them actually remember hearing about the incident in Springfield but they all vaguely know what happened. "They're just going to keep blowing things up!"

Liz slams her glass down on the coffee table. "I am _so_ disillusioned right now!"

Ana is curled in a chair with wide eyes and an absurdly large glass of wine. "I used to think the government was so _good_ to us," she says and it sounds like a terrible stage-whisper. "Is it really worth protecting the public from what they say is bad when they're killing our friends for having too many morals and being too attractive?"

"They're probably just going to keep blowing things up until they get Jacobs and then tell us that Don and Billy died bringing him in and think that we won't know any different," Colby says helpfully, sipping from a tumbler of whiskey. He looks around, eyes narrowing. "Are you _sure_ you guys swept for bugs?"

It goes even further downhill from there.

_ii._

"Bart?"

"Yes, Alison?"

"I have Philip Wright from LA on the phone out here. Should I put him through?"

"No, I don't want to talk to him. Tell him I'm unavailable."

"He wants to know how Billy and Don are doing."

"Well, I'd like to know _what_ they're doing but we can't always get what we want, can we?"

"I'll tell him you're on a call with the Minister of Defence."

"Thank you, Alison."

"I'll also get some more whiskey."

"That would be very nice."

_iii._

Don lets his forehead fall onto the dashboard.

"I actually have no idea what we're even doing anymore."

Billy pats his back consolingly.

"For what it's worth, neither do I."

He groans.

"That shouldn't be reassuring, Coop."

_iv._

Trent Jacobs is beginning to wonder why every pair of agents the FBI keep sending after him are so destructively incompetent. Things keep blowing up and sure, it's fun, but it is making it really difficult to stay under the radar.

He's also really tired of changing disguises.

"Oi, Jacobs!"

"What?"

"We're orderin' pizza. Meatlovers good with you?"

"Extra pepperoni?"

"Sure man, only way to have it."

"And no olives."

_v._

Bart calls Ian Edgerton because he's pretty sure leaving Billy and Don to their own devices is a really stupid decision and he's rather tired of making those.

"Edgerton."

He breathes a sigh of relief. The legendary sniper will save this situation, he's sure of it. "Hi, Bart from Fugitive Recovery here. Are you on assignment at the moment?"

"Finished up this morning, I'm in Topeka right now. You need something?" Ian sounds amused.

"Yes, actually. We sent Cooper and Eppes out after Trent Jacobs over two weeks ago and all that's been achieved is having to fake their deaths, a couple localised arsons, a shot up strip joint and some blown up cars." It somehow sounds better and worse all at once when put like that.

Bart can hear the muffled chuckle. "Sounds just like old times. I'll get in touch with them and we'll see what we can do."

"You'll have to call Cooper, Eppes is incommunicado. When you have Jacobs in custody I want you to shoot the both of them. Somewhere non-fatal preferably but I'm actually not that fussed. If they're dead it means that's one less mess to clean up and an overall safer world."

The chuckle turns into full-blown laughter. "_Just_ like old times. Catch you later, Bart."

_vi._

Don slumps with relief when Billy gets off the phone with Ian.

"Oh thank God. This might actually be over soon."

"He's meeting us in Lincoln," Billy says, pulling back onto the road. "Reckon he'll let me have a go with his rifle?"

"Probably not," Don says after a moment's thought. "He's gotten worse at sharing with age."

Billy looks disappointed. "They give him way cooler stuff than we get."

"It is pretty unfair but I really don't care so long as I get to punch Jacobs in the face before Ian puts a bullet in his knee."

"I like you better when you're like this," Billy says with a satisfied grin. "I was worried that paper-pushing sucked all the maverick out of you."

"Nah," Don says, craning his head to see the next street sign. "I just had to get better at playing by the rules when people were watching." He grins back. "Luckily Jacobs was the one that burned the rulebook here so really, we can't be blamed for anything."

"Bart's still going to yell at us," Billy reminds him as he takes the corner about ten miles faster than recommended. "But you're right, we're just making the best of a bad situation."

_vii._

"Colby called me this morning and said he was sick," David says when Tommy raises his eyebrows at the strangely quiet bullpen. "And I haven't even heard from the girls."

"That kind of fills me with dread, actually," Tommy says after a moment. "I have these mental images of a ridiculous kind of wasteland that's been levelled by some sort of nuclear fallout and they're sitting there having a tea party like the one from that remake of Alice in Wonderland."

David furrows his brow. "With or without the talking woodland creatures?"

Tommy gets up without answering and walks straight towards the elevator.

"Note to self," he mutters as he presses the button. David has already turned back to his desk, completely unfazed. "Make appointment with Dr. Bradford at his earliest convenience. Preferably right now."

_viii._

"Hey, Mikey! How're your friends down at the FBI doing?"

"Andy, hey. They're still pretty cut up. They've taken a few days off now they don't have any cases. Told them they should have done it right after it happened but they're pretty dedicated to their work and probably wanted to do the guy proud, you know?"

"Yeah man, can only imagine. Reckon the hot ones will be open to a little comfort, if you know what I mean?"

"Dude, have a little respect. Gotta wait at least a couple months before you make a move on grieving chicks."

"Guess you're right. Somehow the fact that they're in the FBI makes them even hotter though. Knowing that a girl can kick your ass shouldn't be so attractive."

"Tell me about it."

_ix._

Ian is waiting in a diner in Lincoln when Billy and Don arrive. He already has three coffees and breakfast waiting on the table when they walk in and Don fights the completely irrational urge to hug the man.

He'd probably get shot if he tried, he rationalises, and instead offers a sharp nod. Billy has no such qualms, reaching over and patting Ian's shoulder with a wide grin.

"Edge, man, so good to see you!"

Strangely, Ian just smiles back and doesn't shoot Billy in the face. "Cooper, Eppes. How're things going?"

"Badly," Don says at the same time as Billy says "Really well, we're keeping track of him better than we thought!"

Ian chuckles. "We'll have him in by sunrise or I think Bart might actually have you two assassinated."

"He shouldn't be angry about anything that's happened," Billy says, settling himself in front of a plate. "This was all his idea. We're just doing what he asked."

"His _stupid_ idea," Don agrees around a mouthful of toast. He swallows it and takes a sip of coffee. "Honestly, Jacobs is some kind of idiot savant. Worse than Charlie by a long shot. It's like the second we actually put a plan into action it doesn't actually matter how idiotproof it might be it just falls apart. I don't like it."

"Me either," Billy says. "Usually I'm really good at this."

"Everyone has their off days," Ian says with a shrug. "Except me, I mean, but you're only human."

_x._

"I wish Megan was here," Ana says tearfully.

Colby can hear them from the kitchen where he is attempting to make something edible for a late lunch but he's more than a little drunk as well so it might not be going as well as he'd hoped when he offered. He really doesn't know what they're going to do without Don and the thought is sobering. He takes a long drink from the wine bottle in his hand.

"She had the right idea," Liz says viciously. She's been vacillating wildly between fury and sobbing. It's become rather alarming. "Made the smart move and got out while she still could. They've proven how dispensable we are. Give them the best years of our lives and then we don't matter? Hah, we're pawns."

"This never would have happened with LAPD," Nikki mutters. "They're a proper family, not this backstabbing and quietly murdering and lying bullshit. I should go back. Screw politics, I don't want it enough to end up dead."

"You can't leave," Ana says frantically, tears escalating into panic. "What if that's their plan? Drive a wedge between all of us and then hope we just forget about it and move on with our lives? We can't let them win!"

Colby dumps the whole bottle of wine into the concoction slowly bubbling on the stove, abandoning any attempt at figuring out what he's making, and sticks his head around the doorframe. Someone has to take charge here or they're going to descend into anarchy.

Don wouldn't let this stand and Colby won't either.

"Guys, for God's sake, you've got to pull yourselves together. Come and get some…" he glances at the stove, "some of whatever this is to eat and then we're figuring this out. Ana, we're going to need some big sheets of paper and whatever markers you have. Nikki, get the vodka. Liz, call Megan and put her on loudspeaker while we eat. We're going to need all the help we can get and a phone call between you two will be the least suspicious."

_xi._

Megan is grading undergraduate papers when her phone rings.

Liz's name is flashing on her screen and she frowns. There is a funny feeling in her stomach that makes her a little hesitant to answer the call but she knows that she really should, especially considering the fact that she hasn't heard anything about how the hunt for Trent Jacobs is going in rather a long time.

She still thinks that the conversation she'd had with David was possibly the weirdest five minutes of her life and that is saying a lot. She shakes her head and answers it.

"Hey, Liz, how are things?"

"Megan, we need your help." That's definitely not Liz's voice and it sounds strangely echoing. Almost like she's on speakerphone.

"Colby? Why are you-" she stops halfway through her sentence. "Never mind. What's wrong?"

"The brass killed Billy and Don and they don't think we know but we do." That is definitely Ana's voice. "Granger, this is delicious. What is it?"

Megan blinks.

"Holy shit, she's right." She has no idea who that is but she's guessing it's the new junior.

"I don't know what it is," Colby sounds surprised. "It is good though, isn't it? Anyway, Megan, we need you to help us figure out how we bring down a conspiracy. You can do that with psychology, right?"

The only voice she hasn't heard yet is Liz's. "Liz?" she asks. "Liz, what the hell are they on about?"

The sniffle sounds oddly muffled even taking the loudspeaker and the fact that they're obviously eating into consideration. "They blew Don up." Megan blinks again. Liz is crying. She didn't think the other woman had tear ducts. "They blew him up, Megan, then they _lied_ to us and-and-" That hiccup was definitely at least half sob. "Now we're almost out of vodka."

_xii._

"This plan seems just as likely to go wrong as the one's we've already tried," Don says suspiciously. "I mean, granted, it doesn't involve any explosives so it's probably safer but it sounds just as complicated as anything we came up with."

"The difference is you two aren't the only ones trying to carry it out," Ian points out, very sensibly, and continues to clean his rifle. "I'll be supervising and there to shoot him when he tries to escape."

"The man has a point," Billy agrees. He faces Ian, face deadly serious, and narrows his eyes. "Can you make sure you don't kill him though? Don wants to punch him and I want to draw on him with permanent marker." He scowls. "I'll give the bastard something to laugh at. They'll eat him alive in prison after what I've got planned."

Ian shrugs slightly. "Sure. I'll get him in the knee? Make it harder for him to fight back. Will that do?"

Billy nods in agreement. "Sure, that sounds perfect."

Don wonders wistfully whether he's going to wake up soon and find out that he was just knocked unconscious or shot on a raid or something and this whole thing has been happening in his imagination.

_xiii._

Philip Wright is furious.

Fugitive Recovery is refusing to take his calls, he hasn't heard from Don Eppes in a stupidly long time, the media is running nuts with the story and the two agents in charge of Violent Crimes have gone from very convincing fake grief to very badly disguised suspicion. He doesn't even know where the other four are.

Not to mention the kid that's been delivering Starbucks out there and no one has even bothered to ask his order.

He's human and missing drinkable coffee too, dammit.

_xv._

Later that afternoon they're settling into their places for hopefully the last attempt at taking Trent Jacobs into custody. Billy is practically vibrating with excitement, Ian has the usual zen sniper calm going on and Don has decided that worrying about how it's going to go is completely pointless.

For the first time in his life he is actually kind of resigned to the fact that there is nothing about this situation that he can control.

It's kind of freeing, really.

_xvi._

Bart is torn between not wanting to leave the office because who _knows_ what is going to air on the news while he's driving and being tired of the same four walls. He doesn't think he's ever spent as much time holed up in there as he has in the last however many weeks it has been now. He doesn't know, doesn't care and thinks that he may be suffering from some kind of psychotic break.

_xvii._

Trent Jacobs and his goons are happily sitting in the dining room of a restaurant when everything goes to hell.

The doors all slam closed with an inordinately loud bang and they realise that the only other people in the room are two waiters who look oddly familiar.

It's the red hair that sparks the connection in Trent's memory and his eyes narrow as he recognises the dark haired man too.

"You." He is immediately confused. "Wait just a bloody second. You both died in a fire."

Both men grin and it is a surprisingly chilling sight. Trent palms his pistol and notes with satisfaction that his goons do the same.

"Yes," the two say at the same time. "Us."

The red headed man's grin turns distinctly feral. "Do we look dead to you?"

"Going to come quietly?" the dark haired one asks pleasantly. It is at odds with the hatred practically oozing from him.

Trent fires a round at them and they dive to opposite sides.

"Of course you aren't," the man says loudly over the echo of the shot. "Wishful thinking."

The window explodes in a cascade of shattered glass and the goon closest to Trent falls off his chair, shrieking and clutching at his shoulder.

It doesn't even take five seconds for things to erupt into chaos.

_xviii._

Ian watches things progress from his scope. The odd chuckle escapes him and it only takes thirty seconds for him to line up his next shot and take another one down.

He can hear Billy and Don swearing under their breath through the mics but he refuses to be rushed.

"You're lucky you're on our side or I would punch you too," Don grunts into his earpiece. "I know exactly where you are and there have to have been at least four shots you could have taken."

"And deprive you of your fun?" Ian quips, smoothly firing again. Another goon goes down. Two and Jacobs left.

He contemplates whether Bart really was serious about shooting the pair of agents and blinks.

"Dammit Edgerton!" Billy yelps. It sounds hilariously shrill and Ian chuckles.

"Patience, Cooper. Do your job."

_xix._

Don thinks that there is glass in his underwear. He also has a newfound hatred for the clothes that waiters have to wear _and_ the restrictiveness of Kevlar.

It takes an inordinately long time for the last man to go down but eventually it is just them, their collar and a whole lot of either unconscious or quietly groaning and sobbing men. Abandoned guns are scattered around and the restaurant is absolutely demolished. They might have to apologise for that.

Trent is looking between them with wary eyes and a slight panic. This seems to have gone more in their favour than his and the role reversal must be unfamiliar and more than a little surprising.

"Edge," Billy mutters. "Now."

The shot just skims the man's shoulder as he flings himself out of the way and Don goes sailing over the table.

Trent fires, Don yells something indecipherable, punches him in the face in midair and then realises that he's been shot when his landing is somewhat ruined by the fact that his left leg gives way from under him.

Billy shouts in alarm and Ian's voice comes through both of their ear pieces, sounding slightly panicked which is a big deal for him. "That wasn't me!"

"No shit," Don hisses, punching Trent again for good measure as his leg throbs. He fumbles for his cuffs as Billy gingerly picks his way towards him across the mess they've made of the dining room. "Goddammit, Coop, can you cuff him? It's a flesh wound but it hurts like a _bitch_. You have the right to remain silent because you bet we're going to use anything you say against you in court."

"Not that you need to go to court again," Billy supplies helpfully, crouching down and locking his cuffs around the man's wrists. "You're pretty much screwed. You _are_ kind of entitled to a lawyer but it won't really be necessary. If you don't have one we might provide one for you but I wouldn't count on it. Got it?"

Unfortunately for them, Jacobs is more unconscious than not.

Don hauls himself up using the table as Ian swings open a door, surveying the mess with an approving eye.

"Good job, boys, if I do say so myself."

Billy sits happily on their unconscious collar for a moment, surveying the room as well. Three of the five goons are out cold and the other two are watching them with terror in their eyes. Getting up and moving towards his partner, he unhooks Don's cuffs from the other man's belt, catches the set that Ian tosses him and slaps them on the two men.

"We'll just pretend we said that to you as well, guys, because you lot _are_ going to court."

Don leans against the table and sighs. "Any chance we can get out of here before the media circus arrives?"

"Too late," Ian says cheerfully. "There's a bunch of vans here already and the local PD are just waiting for the all clear."

"Coop, put your jacket over my head and pretend I'm a criminal," Don says pleadingly after a moment of silence when they realise they can hear the uproar going on just outside. "Just take it easy on my leg."

* * *

**_Did anyone really expect Don to get out of it unscathed? If Jacobs didn't shoot him then Ian was undoubtedly going to. I make no promises about the epilogue but I am managing my workload and uni slightly better than anticipated so it may be sooner rather than later._**


	5. Epilogue

**_To the _**_Guest_**_ who pointed out that the Minister of Defence is English – yes, you are right. I'm presuming that Alison figured that talking to international officials would probably sound much more important, not to mention Britain would have escaped fugitives too, and therefore make Bart sound more competent than he actually is. She is the best kind of assistant. In the face of such anarchy the governments need to stand united. Also, considering the rest of the story, that is probably one of the least absurd things that has happened in the last four chapters. Also,_**_ notsing**, Bart definitely has no idea how to handle Billy and Don, even after all these years. He kind of is a dweeb. At least he is in my head anyway. I imagine him as a cross between Drew Carey and Danny DeVito, actually, as terrifying a mix as that sounds and on**_**_ that note, here is the extra-long last bit of insanity in this little arc._**

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

_i._

"Bart!"

"Oh good god, please don't tell me that pernicious bastard actually flew out like he was threatening. _I'm not actually here_."

"You might want to turn the television on instead of glaring at it. I'll call him and tell him everything is under control."

"What are you talking about? Wait a minute- oh. I was so prepared for this to be another horrible disaster. Did they really catch him?"

"Apparently so. Calling Edgerton in was a smart move. Don seems to be missing though. Why do you think Billy put his jacket over Jacobs' head? He isn't usually so considerate."

"Oh shit. I didn't _really_ want Edgerton to shoot them! If he had to shoot one why couldn't it have been Cooper? Wright is going to have me fired for this."

"I keep telling you to be careful what you say to them. You know how they are… always so literal."

"Alison?"

"Yes, Bart?"

"Kindly shut the hell up unless you're going to do your job and have a way to get me out of the country cheaply, quickly and quietly."

"Stop being an asshole. This is all your own fault anyway. My job is to keep your work life in order and I think it's been an impressive achievement cleaning up all your messes to this point but you're on your own here."

"Alison?"

"Goddammit. Alison, I'm sorry, I know- you're gone, aren't you? Yep. You're gone. Okay. I deserved that."

_ii._

"We should probably get you to a hospital," Ian says, twisting around in the passenger side and looking into the backseat. "Drop this one off at lockup and get that leg looked at."

Don nods, leaning back against the seat and readjusting the gun pointed at Trent. "Sooner we don't have to look at his ugly mug the better."

"That was good fun," Billy says. "Where _is_ lockup here?"

"I told you to let Ian drive," Don mutters.

_iii._

"They got Jacobs!"

David almost gives himself whiplash. "What?"

Joe is waving animatedly at the television in the corner of the bullpen. "Look! They just brought him in near Lincoln. Is that Edgerton?"

Tommy cranes his head and recognises the sniper. The man on the other side looks remarkably like Billy Cooper. He blinks and leans closer. "Is that… Cooper? But-"

They wait as the camera pans the local police officers hauling the other men towards patrol cars. David turns towards Tommy and his face is hard as he jerks his head towards Wright's office.

The two of them make a run for the door.

_iv._

Philip Wright looks up with panic written across his face as David Sinclair and Tommy McLean crash through his door.

"We know you lied to us," David says sharply. "But we just saw Billy Cooper on the news. Jacobs is in custody."

Philip opens his mouth and Tommy cuts clear across him. "What really happened to Don?"

"We didn't lie," he says, holding up a hand. He still looks vaguely panicked. "We told you about the ruse but then they went off the radar and we had no idea what happened. Their handler hasn't been taking my calls and I never had a line to Cooper. I've been relying on the news to keep up with them since they torched their SUV and Eppes went off the grid. I'm in the same boat as you are right now."

Both men look stunned for a moment. Tommy's the first to gather his wits. "Well, if that's true then where's Don? We saw Cooper and Edgerton but there was no sign of him."

"I don't know," Philip says honestly. "He was alive sometime last week is all I know for sure. We're just going to have to wait to hear from them."

_v._

"I can't believe he shot me right at the end," Don mutters as the doctor finishes the stitches. "I was just about to punch him in the face. A _second_ earlier and I could be halfway home right now."

"I'll go and call Bart," Ian says thoughtfully. "He'll probably want to be debriefed."

"Let him stew," Billy says cheerfully. He spins around on the stool. "I think we should get pizza."

"I could go pizza," Ian agrees, forgetting the previous train of conversation in favour of food.

Don shrugs and decides to roll with it as the painkillers start to dull the pain. "Why not? I'm all for letting Bart deal with whatever needs to be done. How long have we been out anyway?"

"Today's day eighteen," Billy says after a moment of silent thought. "It's been a long one."

"I should probably call dad and let him know I'll be home soon," Don says, nodding at the doctor. "Thanks. Coop, can I use your phone for a sec?"

_vi._

"Don's coming home soon!" Charlie shouts up the stairs to Amita. "You can stop practicing your acting now!"

He sits down on the bottom stair and takes a deep breath, staring at the ceiling rather desperately. "Please stop practicing your acting now."

_vii._

Megan is still awake when it hits midnight.

She rolls over in bed and stares at the clock for a moment. "No, they're all insane," she says aloud. "They're all insane and it doesn't matter how unlikely it is that they would make up something _that_ crazy. You should know better than to be surprised by now."

A few minutes later she's staring at the ceiling. "No," she repeats. "There is not a government conspiracy and they did not blow Don up and sure, Liz was crying but she was also really drunk. They all were. The fact that you played along with them doesn't mean you _believe_ them."

She spends a good ten minutes practicing deep breathing before she gets up and goes straight for the bottle of rum on her dresser without even questioning why it is there in the first place.

"I'm going to kill Don for this if he isn't already dead."

_viii._

_We were very happy to see that you caught that awful man William and we hope to see you home soon. Love your mother and father. PS we assume its safe to use names now because the case is over. Your sisters say hello again._

ix.

"We have to go to Don's apartment," Colby says decisively, about an hour after he wakes up from a completely unplanned nap. With no idea what time or even day it is, he surveys the mass of paper and general mess in Ana's dining room. "There might be clues there about whatever it was he discovered. We've hit a dead end here anyway."

Ana and Liz are sprawled on the kitchen floor, fast asleep, and Nikki is nodding off from her perch on one of the counters. He looks at them in disgust.

"Now is not the time for sleeping!" he barks, banging on a saucepan with the wooden spoon.

Nikki jolts awake and ends up half in the sink. Ana sits bolt upright, eyes flying open and panic all over her face as Liz rolls over with an odd growling noise.

Colby scowls. "You're all pathetic. It's a wonder Don didn't die of _shame_ before they got to him."

_x._

"You shouldn't fly with a gunshot wound," Ian says, eyes narrowed in consideration as he looks at Don intently. "We should drive back. Well, _I'll_ drive. You can stretch out in the back and Cooper can do whatever."

"Why are you both coming back to LA?" Don asks curiously. He's also pretty sure he should still be in hospital technically but he isn't going to complain if the nurses are happy to release him into Billy and Ian's care. The painkillers they'd given him are _amazing__._

The two men shrug in unison. "Nothing better to do."

Don nods agreeably. "The company would be nice. I forgot how much fun we always have." He frowns thoughtfully. "I really shouldn't drive either."

"Road trip!" Billy crows excitedly.

_xi._

They don't make it out of Ana's kitchen despite Colby's best efforts to stir them to action. He's discovered that they would make terrible soldiers and the thought makes him more upset than he would have expected. "Don would have made a good soldier," he says to himself quietly, feeling remarkably old and nostalgic, and takes a sip from the whiskey that is all they have left. He imagines this is what his commanding officer felt like sometimes.

"Do you think Mike would deliver coffee to us here?" Ana asks blearily. "Or just come make it? I think I have a coffee machine."

"You do have a coffee machine," Nikki mumbles. She's still draped over the counter. It can't be comfortable. "S'in the laundry cupboard on top of the tea towels."

"Because that's a good place to keep a coffee machine," Liz says, sounding more sarcastic than anyone should have a right to sound when talking from the floor. Colby shoots her a sharp glare and she glares belligerently back. "Don't look at me like that, Granger." Her eyes well up again and Colby wonders why it feels like a kick in the groin every time a woman cries.

He takes Ana's phone from the fruit bowl and scrolls through her contacts.

"Mike?"

_xii._

"I'm getting really worried, we haven't heard from Granger and the girls in way too long for it to be a good sign," Tommy says when David arrives in the office absurdly early the next morning.

David is about to reply when his phone rings. He answers it without looking at the number.

"Sinclair."

Tommy watches as the other man slowly cycles through confusion, mild terror and eventually settles on a baffled kind of resignation.

"We talked to Wright last night, Megan. We might actually be right. Not about the conspiracy as such, although we don't know how much we believe him about that, but no one actually knows whether Don's alive or dead right now."

It turns to utter terror a moment later. "Liz was _crying_?"

A feeling of dread suddenly turns Tommy's insides to stone.

_xiii._

Alan decides to go play a game of golf with Stan. Don should be on his way home, Charlie's at work and all seems right with the world. Even the weather is nice.

He hums on his way down the stairs and makes pancakes for breakfast, enjoying the silence.

_xiv._

Don wakes up to hear Billy and Ian in the middle of a rousing round of I-Spy.

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with… t."

"Traffic!"

"One car does not count as traffic. Do you see more than one other car? No. You're terrible at this game."

"You need to be clearer about your definition of words, Edge. Toupee? That guy in the convertible is definitely wearing one."

"I'll pay that, but no."

There is silence for a while and Don isn't entirely sure why he holds his breath waiting for Billy's next guess. He blames the painkillers.

"There aren't any trees either. I give up."

"This is like taking candy from a baby, Cooper. Telephone tower."

"What the hell? I can't see any of those."

"Over there."

"I want a handicap, dammit. Sniper eyesight is an unfair advantage."

"This isn't golf so suck it up. Your turn."

Don snickers quietly.

_xv._

"And the hunt for escaped mass murderer Trent Jacobs finally came to an end last night! We have an exclusive report from one of our journalists who was on the scene at the diner where the thrilling recapture took place. Jack, tell us what happened!"

"Well, Ebony, it was definitely thrilling! A pair of FBI agents cornered their mark and his cohorts in this diner behind me last evening and with some assistance from staff managed to bring him down. As you can see, there is some considerable collateral damage but the owner has released a statement about being happy to help put such a danger to society back in prison and that this damage is purely superficial in comparison to the sacrifice of the two agents who gave their lives earlier in this saga."

"Very true, Jack, I don't think those two agents are far from any American's mind right now. Our prayers and thoughts are with their families, friends and teams at this difficult time. Their sacrifice won't be in vain, I'm sure, as the full force of the law is applied to Trent Jacobs."

"Their identities do still remain unknown but we have had innumerable anonymous tributes phoned and emailed in over the last week. The overwhelming consensus seems to be a profound sense of gratitude for the danger that these agents put themselves in to protect the citizens of this great nation and the sacrifices they make so willingly. We might not know their names but that makes our thoughts and prayers no less heartfelt because through their actions we know who they _were_. They will live on, Ebony."

"That they will, Jack. Today will be a day of reflection as much as celebration. Crossing to the weather room now."

_xvi._

Charlie's classroom has been completely overtaken by crying college girls due to what he can only imagine was a horrifically emotional news broadcast about the long overdue capture of Trent Jacobs and he thinks that he kind of wants to cry as well.

This has all gotten to be too much and he really needs a vacation. Without Amita.

_xvii._

Mike gets a phone call from one of the FBI agents at about 8:30am and counts himself lucky he doesn't start at work until noon. It sounds like they need coffee way more than any paying customers and he heard about Jacobs finally being caught. It must be pretty emotional news.

The apartment he gets directions to is rather fancy and he is impressed but tries not to let it show on his face as the guy, Granger, lets him in. The place looks like a warzone inside. A sophisticated one, admittedly, but one nonetheless.

The three women look utterly wrecked.

"God, what happened?" he asks before realising that is kind of an insensitive question.

"Look," Granger says. He's carrying a wooden spoon and Mike silently takes the empty alcohol bottles scattered about into consideration before saying anything. "There is some serious shit going down and these three are pitiful soldiers right now. We can't tell you because people have already died and I won't have the blood of an innocent on our hands but I need them on their game. Can you fix them?"

He's definitely confused but more than willing to go along with this because if you can't trust the FBI then who _can _you trust? Mike nods staunchly. "You said there was a coffee machine?"

"In the laundry cupboard," Ana says sleepily, waving her hand towards the hallway.

He doesn't ask questions as Granger follows him to the laundry and stands guard while he gets the machine. His life definitely couldn't be classed as boring anymore.

_xviii._

Alison still isn't answering his calls by the next afternoon and he hasn't left his office yet. Bart is pretty sure he's screwed and, unfortunately, none of the many contingency plans he has had in place all these years are equipped to deal with the double onslaught of chaos that he really should have known was coming when he put Cooper and Eppes in the same vicinity.

He wants to tell himself that he's never going to order their collaboration again but a little voice tells him that seeing as he's sent Eppes to his death he won't exactly be able to even if he wanted to.

He blames the odd little noise that escapes him on the psychotic break and deliberately doesn't look at the picture on his desk. He hasn't had enough sleep to look at the eighteen year old picture that some sentimental part of him keeps regardless of the dozens of other agents he's worked with.

"Alison? I'm an asshole but I need your help. If I got Eppes killed I have to call his father and he scares me."

_xxix._

When everyone is considerably more functional, Mike doesn't feel quite so bad about leaving them to go to work.

"We appreciate the assistance," Granger says seriously. He reminds Mike more and more of a military commander every time he speaks which is, honestly, very surprising. He'd always thought that he was a little on the odd side but he guesses that loss sometimes brings out the best in people. They need a leader right now and he's obviously stepped up to the plate.

"If you need it again don't hesitate to call," he says sincerely. "We really appreciate everything you guys do to make LA a safer place so we'll do whatever we can to help out."

"You've done plenty already," Ana says kindly. Her face hardens a little. "It's up to us now."

As they leave the apartment building with him he wonders whether he should point out that not a single one of them is wearing their weapon and that Granger and Ana actually have their handcuffs attached to their gun holsters but decides against it. They're probably just carrying them concealed, he rationalises. They're FBI agents, they're always prepared for everything.

_xxx._

Don calls Alan when they hit the outskirts of LA at about 6 that evening.

"Hey Dad, it's me. I'm going to head home and get cleaned up before we come around, okay?"

"Sure Donnie, it'll just be good to have you back. Are Billy and Ian coming with you?"

"Yeah – I uh, might have gotten a little injured bringing Jacobs in. Nothing major, I promise!"

"Well, I didn't hear from your handler about it. What happened?"

"We left a message with Alison and might not have actually mentioned it. It's just a flesh wound anyway, I got checked out by a hospital and Billy and Ian have been driving so I've done nothing but rest."

"Don, that's very inconsiderate of you. He's probably worried. Things back here have been crazy. You saying it's just a flesh wound doesn't exactly fill me with confidence either. What happened?"

"He knows we're fine, the report was on the news and everything. Just a little GSW to the leg. Missed all the arteries and bones and even the doctor said it was really minor. I didn't even need a wheelchair, just some crutches."

"Hi Alan! We ditched the crutches, he's doing fine."

"You're going to be the death of me one day, Don. Say hi to Billy and Ian and I'll see you when you get home."

Don leans back against the seat with a sigh. "It is going to be like I never left, isn't it?"

_xxxi._

David and Tommy watch suspiciously as Wright leaves the office with a determined look on his face. They haven't exactly done much work over the last few weeks but they don't think he ever does so seeing him doing anything with so much purpose is highly unusual.

"Looks like he has some loose ends to tie up," Tommy says quietly as he and David very slyly reach for their jackets and follow the man towards the elevators. He takes the stairs in a surprise move and David stabs desperately at the call button.

Luckily the elevator arrives in another couple of seconds and they manage to beat him down to the parking lot. Their stealth skills are thoroughly tested as they follow him through the maze of government issue vehicles and out into LA traffic.

"This is way harder without sirens," David mutters as they get cut off by a jerk in a flashy convertible.

Tommy grunts unhappily. "He's compensating for something. We could _crush_ that tiny car with my SUV."

Sometime later David frowns. "McLean, this is _Don's_ area. Wright lives on the other side of town."

_xxxii._

Don's hobbled most of the way into the living room when he hears Billy and Ian say a cheery hello to someone. He turns just in time to see a cluster of people emerge from the hallway.

Colby crashes into him first, Ana second, Liz and Nikki tied for third. He goes down without a fight mostly because there is no way his leg can stand under the onslaught. Luckily they hit the rug and once he gets a little breath back in his lungs and some more painkillers he might not want to kill them all.

He has missed his merry little band of crazies, if he's honest with himself.

"What the hell is going on here?" Philip Wright's voice thunders from the doorway.

Everyone looks up and the man's eyes widen dramatically when he sees Don.

"Eppes? You're supposed to be _dead_."

Nikki's the first to gain her feet and fumble for her absent gun as Colby throws himself protectively over Don and Ana crouches in front of both of them with a truly terrifying expression on her face. Liz, for her part, lunges for the bonsai plant on the coffee table.

"We _knew _it!" David and Tommy are right behind the director with fingers pointed and eerily in sync.

The room is blanketed in a dramatic, ringing silence as the ceramic pot hits Wright in the groin.

* * *

**_That felt like a fitting way to finish things. The only thing that would have been better is if it had been Alison throwing something at Bart. I think their working relationship may need some therapy after this. Everyone probably needs some therapy. I hope everyone has enjoyed this ride as much as I enjoyed writing it, your reviews have been a delight to read along the way._**


End file.
